


"By the Book"

by valleya



Category: Kung Fu: The Legend Continues
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:02:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25833220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valleya/pseuds/valleya
Summary: Paul Blaisdell finds out his friend, Kermit Griffin, has been up to seeking retribution for criminal activities. In fact, he has been up to a whole hell of a lot.
Kudos: 2





	"By the Book"

Captain Paul Blaisdell ran into Detective Peter Caine in the parking lot of the 101st precinct. Even before Peter had closed his car door, Paul could read the lines of fatigue etched into the younger man's features and didn't like what he saw.

"You look like you were up late last night, son," he observed, waiting for Peter to amble up to him. "I told you to take it easy this weekend and have some fun. They fell into step together as they headed for the front door of the precinct. 

Paul reached over and put a hand around his son's neck, pulling him closer to him. "I know seeing Philip Cordova walk without so much as a slap on the hand was pretty upsetting for you and the rest of the department, but you can't let that throw you. You just have to accept that sometimes you win and sometimes you don't. It's all part of the game."

Peter yawned and shook his head. Glancing into Peter's expression, Paul was surprised to see excitement in Peter's tired eyes. He let his hand slip away as Peter began to explain, "No, it's not that at all. I'm not worried about the fact that Cordova will get what's coming to him eventually. What goes around, comes around. It's just a matter of time before that man sees the inside of a prison cell. What I found last night was much more interesting."

"More interesting? Well, what is it?" Paul asked, genuinely interested in what had caused Peter's sudden enthusiasm.

They were heading up the front steps of the precinct as Peter launched into his explanation. "You see, Paul, it's like this. I couldn't sleep last night, so I came down to the precinct and started rummaging through the cold case files-"

Paul grunted and muttered, "As if you don't have enough to do, Peter."

Peter grinned but didn't respond to the comment. "I tried applying some of the cross-search computer programs that were recently installed on my computer and there it was!"

Paul stopped and turned to Peter. He had been following him all the way to that point. "There, what was?"

"John Newby was the original suspect of the Victoria Spelling murder, and the man had gotten away with murder because it was committed fifteen years ago, long before DNA testing had progressed to the degree of accuracy we now have.

"The lab had some skin samples from under Victoria's nails, but no way to say for sure that it was Newby's, so he walked. But Newby was picked up last month as the prime suspect in a rape case. As standard procedure, the DA got a subpoena approving collection of the suspect's DNA to run against the sperm samples found at the crime scene.

"So, John Newby had been arrested for the rape last month. By the time, I was done playing with those new cross-referencing programs, he wound up being arrested for Murder One, too. Newby's DNA was a perfect match for the skin samples under Victoria Spelling's nails." 

Peter paused to catch his breath and beamed with pride over his accomplishments, pride that touch Paul's heart at his son's dedication to his job. 

Peter continued, "Using my formidable powers of persuasion, I convinced a very sleepy, and may I add, quite grumpy DA to get up in the middle of the night to press murder charges against Newby. You see, the timing was important. Newby's attorney was supposed to finalize arrangements made with the judge and the DA this morning for bail and home electronic ankle monitoring, pending his trial. Now, that bastard is stuck in jail without bail, and facing the justice he should have received fifteen years ago."

Paul patted Peter on the shoulder. "Good work, son, but next time try and do it during regular office hours. You look exhausted."

Peter shrugged. "Tired, but satisfied. You know, by changing designation of the coding on the case files like I did last night, I think we can come up with a more efficient way of searching-"

It was as if the proverbial light bulb blinked over Paul's head and he turned toward Peter with a suspicious glint in his eye. "Did Kermit put you up to this?" 

Peter's gaze darted around for a moment, before he began stuttering. "Not-not really, Paul. I mean, it's a really good idea and I think-"

"Uh-huh," Paul muttered as they passed through the swinging gate separating the lobby from the internal areas of the police department.

The homicide captain patted Sargent Broderick on the shoulder as they approached the front desk. "How are things this morning, John?" 

Broderick hung up his hat and rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm usually up to my eyeballs processing arrests or dealing with disgruntled citizens, but as you can see, it's pretty damned quiet around here."

Paul glanced around, confirming Broderick's pronouncement. "Why's that?"

"Damned if I know. But that new filing system Griffin's invented has saved me weeks of work!"

"Kermit again," Paul muttered.

"Yeah, Kermit. For a quiet guy, he's pretty damned amazing. But those rare times when he decides to leave his inner sanctum, as he calls it, those are the only times we get to see him and talk to him."

Paul smiled and rubbed at his chin in thought. "If I were you, I wouldn't mention Kermit's inner sanctum or refer to him as that 'quiet guy' unless you are wearing full body armor, John."

A big smile spread over Peter's face as Broderick's earlier explanation evidently began to sink in. "You see, Paul, I was right! It's like I've been telling you all along -- "

Paul ignored him and spun around, heading into the bullpen area with Peter hot on his heels. The sight of Blake sitting with his feet propped up on his desk, reading the morning newspaper caused Paul to pause. He opened his mouth to ask if Blake needed some work to do when the headline drew his attention.

**"Cordova's Millions Go To Charity"**

The line below the headline stated Cordova wanted his money returned, and then went on to reprise last week's trial and its unexpected verdict. The verdict that freed Philip Cordova, despite the fact that every police officer in the precinct being sure he was the prime source for dealing drugs to children in the city's schools.

Paul stepped closer to Blake, who was quietly chuckling to himself. "What's so funny?"

"Funny? Oh, just the news. And how real life can definitely be stranger than fiction."

"Fiction, as in pure bullshit, is what was behind Cordova's release. Too bad we couldn't nail him for peddling poison to kids, but I swear the next case we make against that man will be so airtight, Houdini himself wouldn't be able to get out of it," Paul grumbled as he squinted to make out more of the article from a distance. "Now, if there was ever a travesty of justice."

After a moment of reading, Paul straightened and asked, "So, what's happened? What's the charity donations he's after? He might have made charity donations before the trial to make himself look good, but after the courts deemed him an honest man last Friday, does he really want them back?"

Blake dived into an explanation, paraphrasing the gist of the news article. "Cordova's millions have turned up missing and he's saying he's become a victim of electronic theft. A total of three million dollars went missing from his various 'legitimate' accounts."

"Really? When did that happen?" Peter asked, joining the conversation.

Blake nodded, though he struggled to sound sympathetic in view of the blatant audacity in what he was reading word-for-word from the paper. "Someone has stolen my money and donated it to several children's charities. My money was acquired through legal means. That damned circus from last week that they labeled as a criminal trial only further proved my innocence. I am a legitimate business man who is now the victim of someone's sick sense of humor. The money is mine. I want it back. In fact, I demand its return immediately!"

Peter leaned closer, squinting to read the fine printing. "Can the courts make the charities give him back the money?"

Paul snatched the newspapers from Blake more to hide his growing smirk than to read what the article contained. When he lowered it, he had his stoic expression back in place.

He glanced around at the inactivity of the bullpen before he tossed the newspaper on Blake's desk. He frowned darkly and put both hands on his hips. "Did I miss the memo from the mayor giving everyone the day off?"

With his quietly uttered words, everyone went to work, including Peter. 

Paul walked into his office and removed his heavier coat, leaving on his suit jacket, though he loosened his tie slightly opting for comfort over appearance. He sat at his desk, trying to rein in his emotions before he made his next move. 

After another moment, he cleared his throat and pressed a button on his desk. "Kermit, could you please step into my office?"

The grunt on the other end was his reply. Within moments, there was a series of sharp raps on his door, Kermit's trademark 'secret code' knock to let Paul know it was him. 

"Come in," Paul said, keeping all emotion out of his voice.

Kermit entered and closed the door behind him, but he didn't sit down. "You rang?" the ex-merc asked rhetorically.

"Yes, yes, I did, Kermit. I believe we have a few things to discuss about your extracurricular activities over the weekend."

Kermit smoothed his tie, and then adjusted his dark green shades before folding his hands behind his back in a relaxed military stance. "Whatever do you mean?"

"Kermit, have a seat please."

The younger man complied. Paul kept him waiting while he studied Kermit's poker face. The younger man gave telltale signs that he knew his bluff was about to be called, but was determined to ride it all the way to the end.

"I just read the morning headlines. Quite a spectacular story, especially given the dismal spirits around here last week when the judge released his verdict. It took a moment for me to look deeper at Cordova's dispute with his missing millions. In other words, I simply read between the lines."

  
Paul leaned forward, clasping his fingers together. "Do I need to remind you that you are a police officer now and, as such, you are expected to remain on the right side of the law?

Kermit didn't move for a moment, a myriad of emotions crossed over his normally bland expression. In a low voice, one designed to avoid any sign of disrespect, Kermit began, "You and I both know that judge was bought off, Paul. I can prove it."

"Paid off judges aside, my friend, I think you took things a step too far by donating Cordova's money to aid the very victims who were ensnared by his illicit drug sales. It's a tipoff, Kermit. And I'd watch my back for a while if I were you."

Kermit didn't comment either way to Paul's announcement, merely sat staring straight ahead.

Paul sat back in his seat and watched his friend a bit longer. He played with a pencil before he tossed it back to the desk. "I'm going to assume you erased your trail completely or you wouldn't be sitting there looking so smug and self-satisfied."

Kermit allowed a slight shrug to the affirmative.

Paul stood, and came around to the front of his desk. "You are a part of this precinct now, Kermit. Actions such as these will not be condoned or tolerated. We get our convictions by plain old do-it-by-the-book police work. If I ever see you showboating again, I'll have your badge so fast-"

"Perhaps, I did overstep my authority a tad," Kermit interrupted, his voice still low as he leaned forward in his seat, "but transferring illegally gained funds so that they can help undo some of the horrors that man has caused this community could be defined as working in the public's best interest. 

"Isn't that what we cops are supposed to do? Protect the public's interest and serve a greater good? I swore an oath to protect and serve, I think I did that to the best of my ability this weekend. At least, that's the way it read in my book." 

Paul took a deep breath, hearing the frustration in his friend's admission. "In your book, huh? Well, just don't use the Griffin abridged version of the rule book in the future. The only book we use here is this one here. It's the one every officer in this precinct uses when going by the book." 

Paul hefted a huge book from his bookshelf and tossed it in Kermit's direction. Kermit looked at the book with wonder. "You mean these things actually exist? I always thought of it as something akin to the Holy Grail."

Paul grunted at Kermit's comment and softened his tone as he replaced the book on the shelf. "Yes, they actually exist. Don't give me that ignorant look. I'm sure you can cite this thing by chapter and verse on any section I randomly point my finger to."

Blaisdell settled himself more comfortably at the edge of the desk. "The rule book is there for a reason, based on a series of laws designed to keep the bad guys in jail where they belong, via the legal process. What I'm trying to say is if you want to play these games, at least run it before me first. I can't shield you from the backwash of bureaucratic retribution, if I don't know what you've been up to."

Kermit grunted with sarcasm. "You sound very pious, Paul, threatening me with not observing some of the more inane dictates of your rule book, but you seem to have forgotten the fact that I've known you long enough to witness you ripping chapters from the rule book on more than one occasion, and casting them into the wind."

Paul smiled as he stared at Kermit, his tone softening with Kermit's burst of reality reminders. "Those were different times, my friend. And in looking back, it seems like a different world."

Kermit stood and paced the small office, giving Paul more than a small hint of the fury residing inside the dark-shaded detective. 

"Cordova is pure scum and he avoided justice by using the proceeds of crime to buy off a judge." 

Kermit stopped pacing, but continued speaking, "I thought there was something inherently poetic in using those very same funds to help the victims of his drug campaign. At the moment, Philip Cordova hasn't got enough left to pay a traffic ticket, let alone buy off another judge."

There was a hint of satisfaction in Kermit's expression as he stopped in front of Paul. "As a matter of fact, I hear the organized crime task force is opening an investigation into Cordova's operations, due to some recent information they received from an anonymous tip."

"Anonymous?" Paul asked before he stared at Kermit for several moments. Then he rubbed a hand over his face and started to laugh. No, it was more than a laugh. It was a deep, 'hold your belly because you can't breathe" kind of laugh. Within moments, Kermit was joining him.

  
When they had recovered, Paul put a hand on Kermit's shoulder. "I must admit your antics were pure magic, my friend. But unfortunately as long as you work for me, I can't allow you to show such flagrant disregard for the law. Follow procedure. Go through channels. Go by the book. Please try and take a more reasonable approach to your work."

Kermit nodded and started to leave. "My first thought was to take his head off with a two-by-four, so I considered hitting him in the wallet a far more reasonable approach."

Paul nodded. "Oh yeah, I hear you. But I don't want to read about your efforts in the headlines. If you want to do this electronic Robin Hood hocus-pocus, keep it to yourself and keep it off the front page. Otherwise, people might start to put two-and-two together and see that it adds up to one Kermit Griffin."

Kermit smiled his quirky grin and adjusted his glasses. "Okay, I'll keep it out of the news somehow, but I'm not going to stop unless you stop me. These assholes think they are invincible. I just bring a little reality into their lives. Besides, they'll never trace it to me. I'm the only invincible asshole still living at this point in time."

Paul chuckled, despite his effort to maintain a grim composure. "Get out of here and go do what you are actually getting paid to do."

Kermit saluted Paul and left the office, but not Paul's heart. His old friend was one to watch, simply because of the amazing things he could do, and that pragmatic sense of right-and-wrong that he used to guide his path. Lord help them, if Kermit ever became so angry he acted before he thought things all the way through. 

Paul took a deep breath. "No, that isn't likely to happen either. Kermit is too professional and thorough to let a thing like anger cause him to make a mistake. God bless him." Paul muttered as he loosened his tie and started weeding through the paper work on his desk.

Skalany's outrageous laughter in the bullpen distracted him a few minutes later. Her laughter was joined by a few of the other detectives. Paul set down his pen and moved to the closed blinds, slyly peeking out from one side.

"Maybe, I shouldn't ride Kermit so hard. This crew needed something to knock them out of the doldrums. And he had accomplished it with ease. Still, the man needs someone to help guide him. It's a very fine line between vengeance and retribution. A person who goes too far to exact revenge sometimes never climbs back out of the pit they entered to do their dirty work."

  
Paul saw Kermit watching the laughter and joyous reactions from the others while he stood at the coffeemaker, silently enjoying their laughter as he sipped from his styrofoam coffee cup. Paul let the blinds fall back into place. 

His telephone rang and soon the headlines and laughter were forgotten as Paul became involved in the duties of his job, but Kermit Griffin was never far from his thoughts. A comrade in war, who had became a friend for life and he was one man Paul Blaisdell counted himself lucky to have working for him.

In fact, the city would be a safer place with Kermit and his behind-the-scenes subterfuge monitoring the low-life inhabiting the darker regions of the area. A much safer place. 

**oOoOoOoOo**

**The End**

Much thanks to my friend and beta-reader Teprac S.


End file.
